


31 Days of Good Omens Fluff (AKA Flufftober)

by Inkwell1013



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Ballroom Dancing, Beatriz is Beelzebub, Celebrations, Coffee Shops, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crushes, Dancing, First Meetings, Fluff, Genderfluid Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, More tags to be added, Romantic Fluff, stealing sweaters, stoner crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 32
Words: 14,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27046405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkwell1013/pseuds/Inkwell1013
Summary: An angel and a demon fall in love and have some sweet moments.Fluff in it's purest form. Literal sugar. This stuff is so sugary that it will absolutely give you cavities. Mostly because this ship gives me life.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 75





	1. Prompts

**Author's Note:**

> [The prompts can be found here.](https://vex-bittys.tumblr.com/post/627174989035077632/please-feel-free-to-use-the-prompts-andor-the)
> 
> Basically, I'm slowly transferring this years Flufftober fics from my tumblr onto my ao3 account. That way they can be on both. My tumblr is [here](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/inkwell1013) if anyone wants to follow me. This series is essentially a bunch of short but sweet fics for my favorite ship. I hope everyone enjoys!

Promts are.  
1\. Coffee Shop AU  
2\. First Meeting  
3\. College/University AU  
4\. Fake Dating  
5\. Celebration  
6\. Hurt/Comfort  
7\. Dancing  
8\. Clothes  
9\. Snowy/Rainy Day  
10\. Cooking  
11\. Finding/Adopting a Pet  
12\. The Perfect Gift  
13\. Carrying  
14\. Cuddles  
15\. Oblivious Crush  
16\. Kemonomimi (Animal Ears/Tails)  
17\. Embarrassing Secret  
18\. Late Night Craving  
19\. Sharing a Bed  
20\. Roommates/Neighbors  
21\. Sick Partner  
22\. Gardening  
23\. Stuck Together  
24\. Terms of Endearment  
25\. Compromise  
26\. Kisses  
27\. Promises  
28\. Angst (The Forbidden Fluff)  
29\. Family  
30\. Dating Start  
31\. Artist/Writer’s Choice

Prompts written by vex-bittys on tumblr.


	2. Prompts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anthony has been crushing on the barista at his local coffee shop for weeks but is too nervous to tell his crush how he feels.

“He’s pretty cute,” admitted Crowley. Bea smirked.

“I knew you liked him,” she laughed. “Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?”

Crowley shifted a little, almost nervous. “I don’t know if he swings that way. Besides I’m probably not his type. Plus, he looks like he has his shit together. Why would he want to date me?”

“You never know if you don’t try,” said Bea. “Just speak to him.”

“I don’t know…”

Bea sighed, clearly a little annoyed. She grabbed Crowley by the shoulders and shoved him toward the counter. “You _will_ talk to that boy Anthony, even if I have to force you,” she ordered. “And get me a flat white while you’re at it.”

He was shocked into action and eventually decided to just _try_ to talk to the boy he liked. Crowley wasn’t such a disaster that he couldn’t speak to his crush. He could totally do this.

Standing before the counter he was greeted by the white-haired barista. Aziraphale had a forest green apron tied around his waist and a neatly pressed white shirt. Flashing Crowley a bright smile, he asked for his order.

“I’ll have an Espresso. The name’s – “

“Anthony, right? Anthony J. Crowley. I remember you from last time. Your bright red hair sort of stuck out to me.”

“Oh um… thank you.”

“You never did tell me what the J stood for,” remarks Aziraphale as he wrote down Crowley’s name on the cup.

“It’s sort of just a J,” admitted Crowley with a sheepish smile.

“I get it. Parents can come up with weird names sometimes. Mine named me after a biblical angel of all things. It’s utterly ridiculous,” he chuckled, going to switch on the machine to make the coffee.

Crowley gave a little smile. He found Aziraphale’s name very fitting. It was fancy, just a little bit over the top and so like him.

“Anything else?” asked Aziraphale, turning Crowley’s attention away from his thoughts.

“Just a flat white. The name’s Beatriz.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” Aziraphale asked still facing the machines fiddling with a few things. There was the slightest hint of something in his voice. Crowley wasn’t sure what it was. A tiny part of his brain tells him that Aziraphale might be a little bit interested in him and disappointed that he was in a relationship.

“No, no, no,” he backtracked. “She’s not my girlfriend. Besides, I don’t swing that way if you know what I mean.”

Aziraphale gave him a quizzical look and gave a quiet response. “Me too. I bat for the home team, as I believe the saying goes.”

Crowley swallowed his nerves and looked the guy dead in the eyes. Such beautiful eyes as well, like clear pools of water, or a bright summer sky. Shoot, he was getting distracted.

“Forgive me if I’m being forward, but could I have your number?” he asked. “It’s okay if you don’t want to give it to me. I’d get that. But I think you’re really cute and I’d like to get to know you better.”

There was a moment of silence and then Aziraphale set down two cups down on the counter. Crowley picked one up and noticed a phone number written on it just underneath his name.

“Give me call sometime,” said Aziraphale with a gentle grin.

Crowley nodded and went to join Bea at their table. “Did ya get his number?” she asked.

“Yeah,” responded Crowley holding out his coffee cup and showing Bea the number that had been written in Aziraphale’s neat handwriting.

“He even wrote his number on your cup. What kind of rom com ass bullshit is that? I’m glad you finally spoke to him dude.”

“I am too.”


	3. First Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale didn't actually meet at Eden. They were both angels after all...

They met for the first time on the wall of Eden, at least that’s what Aziraphale would say when you asked him. It was one of his favourite stories to tell people. “Let me tell you how I met my husband,” he would say before rattling off the story, including Crowley’s now famous line ‘that went down like a lead balloon’.

Crowley couldn’t bring himself to tell Aziraphale the truth. They had met a few times before. Before Crowley was… well… Crowley. Back when he was known as Raphael. Before the revolution. Before the fall. Before angels and demons became mortal enemies.

Before everything.

When he had stood on that wall, looking out across the endless desert, he had suddenly realised where he knew this angel from. They had known each other, and he had considered Aziraphale a friend, though they had never been close.

He had wanted to tell him, wanted to rekindle that relationship. But he couldn’t do that to Aziraphale. They were on different sides. They were enemies now. Even though he wanted to befriend him again, Crowley knew it would only bring up harmful memories for the angel and possible repercussions. An angel and a demon being friends was practically unheard of. Even if they were friends then, they couldn’t be friends now.

So, he said nothing for nearly six thousand years.

Then the apocalypse inched ever closer and his desire to tell grew even more. They had grown even closer, so maybe it was okay to spill the secret. But he had spent years cultivating this persona of a confident, bad boy that completely conflicted with who he was when he was Raphael. There was a chance that Aziraphale flat out wouldn’t believe him. And opening the can of worms of _why didn’t you tell me sooner_ would just be painful for both of them.

Four days after the apocalypse that wasn’t, Crowley and Aziraphale had begun to settle into the new normal of their lives. No sides. Not anymore. They were sipping some of Aziraphale’s wine when he sort of blurted it out.

“Do you remember a dude named Raphael back when we were in heaven?” he asked.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Tall guy with red hair, right? I remember him being a bit shy, but he was a nice guy. Why do you ask?”

“That was me,” he admitted. “I was Raphael before I fell.”

Shock was written all over Aziraphale’s face as he processed the new information. “That was you? Why didn’t you say something about it sooner?”

Crowley shook his head, no answer coming.

Aziraphale’s face took on a contemplative expression and his voice softened. “We made the stars together, didn’t we? Alpha Centuri was one of ours. Was that why you wanted to run away to there so?”

“I made them with you. They’re special,” Crowley murmured.

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into a warm embrace. “I love you dear. I love you as Crowley and Anthony and Nanny Ashtoreth and Raphael. I love you when you’re a man. I love you when you’re a woman. Heck, I even love you when you’re a snake. The only I don’t love you is when you lie to me and keep secrets.”

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t know what to say.”

And that’s how the story of their first meeting changed from ‘we met on the walls of Eden’ to ‘we met while hanging the stars in the sky’. Both are equally beautiful, but Crowley secretly liked the second one more.

Now he smiles whenever he looks at the night sky, seeing the bright lights he and Aziraphale placed throughout the universe. Each shining star was a reminded him of their love.


	4. College/University AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale meets his peculiar upstairs neighbor Crowley and falls for him. Just a little bit.

Aziraphale was the epitome of all a perfect son should be. He was a good student, got perfect grades and didn’t do drugs or drink. He still went to church every Sunday and prayed every night. He had always been the perfect child.

Well there was the unfortunate habit he had of being a homosexual, but that was easily hidden around his folks with the only negative side effects being constant terror of being found out and a lot of shame surrounding his sexuality. Now he had finally gotten out of that hellhole and was unsure of how to start being more… out about everything.

There were a few clubs around campus that he had thought about joining but that would require _social interaction_ and he quite frankly had no time for that. Being a vigorously introverted young man, he much preferred to be by himself. His favourite pastime was reading, which was part of the reason he was studying English Lit.

Pouring himself a drink, he went to settle into an evening of relaxation on the balcony of his dorm room. Switching on his reading lamp, he cracked open his well-loved copy of Jane Eyre. A few minutes into his reading session, he was surprised to see a pair of boot clad feet dangling from the balcony above him, as a lithe young man swayed a little and threw himself onto Aziraphale’s balcony – damn near falling off on his way.

Having narrowly avoided his certain doom, the man sharply inhaled and stood up. He flashed a cocky smile at Aziraphale who was shocked into stillness.

“Hey, the name’s Anthony,” he said. “I live in the dorm room above yours.”

“I’m Aziraphale. This is certainly an unusual way to introduce yourself to your downstairs neighbour.”

“I know, I know. Look, can you hide something for me?” asked Anthony, glancing back and forth. Aziraphale slowly nodded, still a little startled. “Thank you so much,” he exclaimed, shoving a small bag of something green into Aziraphale’s hands.

Aziraphale was puzzled. “What is this?” he questioned, holding it out to the dim lamp light.

“It’s weed. I’m not meant to have it – because it’s drugs you know - and the Dean is going to search my room. You can have some of it if you want just like leave some for me.”

“Why are you leaving it with me though? You don’t even know me.”

“I’ll be real, you kinda have a reputation of being like a bit off a goody two shoes. Like you never get in trouble like at all – it’s unreal. You’re the last person the dean would expect to hide drugs for me. Thanks so much. I owe you one.”

Crowley dug out a crumpled flyer from his pocket, handing it over to Aziraphale. “My band are playing at this bar later. If you wanna come, I’ll buy you a drink.”

With that, he gave a cocky smirk and went to climb back up to his own balcony. He struggled to pull himself up, and eventually asked Aziraphale to give him a leg up. Aziraphale complied, lifting him up a bit so that he could clamber up to his balcony.

“Thanks again,” yelled Crowley as he went back into the upstairs apartment. Aziraphale smiled a bit. He had finally put a face to his mysterious upstairs neighbour. He had of course already known about the band, having heard them practicing many a time.

Now he had an invitation to see them play. A part of him wanted to go. But another part of him thought it probably wouldn’t be his scene. From what he had heard, their band were very loud and, checking the flyer, he found that they were something called ‘a punk rock band’. Aziraphale wasn’t sure what that was, but it sounded like the kind of thing his parents would try their best to steer him away from.

But he really wanted to go. This strange red-haired man had certainly captured his attention.


	5. Fake Dating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale invites his attractive coworker Crowley to his brother's wedding. The two of them pretend to be dating but could there be a possibility of something more?

The wedding had been at the forefront of Aziraphale’s mind for quite a while. His older brother was getting married to his girlfriend of five years and Aziraphale had been invited, much to his dismay. Weddings were full of _people_ and _talking_ – simply put everything he despised. Aziraphale was fiercely introverted man at heart.

He was also currently single which wasn’t that much of a problem in the grand scheme of things. However, his brother had made it clear that he was required to bring someone along as a plus one.

So, he eventually sucked it up and asked his co-worker - Anthony Crowley - to come with him. Crowley was onboard mostly for the free food but also for the fun of tricking everyone into thinking they were together.

That was how he ended up at his brother’s annoyingly perfect outdoor wedding, with his attractive co-worker in tow. The ceremony was dull and Aziraphale was terribly uncomfortable in his stiff grey suit. Crowley was as effortlessly suave as always with his neat black shirt and slacks.

After the ceremony was over, the reception began, which was an interesting experience. Aziraphale hadn’t been that close to his family since the who _being a homosexual debacle occurred_. Most people were being somewhat civil but the whole thing had just put a massive divide between everyone in his family.

“I’m gonna grab up a drink,” announced Crowley. “Do you want anything?”

“Just some champagne please,” Aziraphale responded.

“Coming right up,” he said with a wink, sauntering over to the bar. _The one good thing about weddings_ is the open bar, he thought privately.

It was then that the last person he wanted to see, wandered up to him. His older brother, Gabriel. The groom. The man of the hour. And – in Aziraphale’s opinion – a judgemental, ass kissing, douchebag. But hey, family is family. Blood is thicker than water. All that nonsense. Still a massive twat though.

“You’ve actually bought a date. Everyone’s talking about it you know. I thought you were single again because your last boyfriend broke up with you. Back on the horse already?” he asked cheerfully. While his tone was light, Aziraphale could practically feel the snideness of the comment.

“Thanks for your _concern_ Gabriel. And yes. Things didn’t work out with Daniel, he had to move for work.”

Gabriel gave him a look that was probably intended to be sympathetic, but just made him look like a condescending asshole. At that moment, Crowley came back, two flutes of champagne in hand. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head.

“Everything okay here?” he asked stiffly.

“Yeah, we were just talking. Isn’t that right Gabriel? And we were just about done.”

Gabriel scowled and stormed off, likely going to bother someone else. “What was all that about?” asked Crowley.

“He’s just being annoying. Don’t worry about it. Apparently, everyone’s talking about us. Why can’t people just mind their own business,” he rumbled, sipping at the champagne.

Crowley narrowed his eyes just a little. “How about we give them something to talk about?”

“Huh?”

“We could sneak away for a bit, somewhere in the garden. That would really get them talking.”

Aziraphale was about to decline when he noticed his brother whispering to his now wife and sneaking glances at him. Suddenly tired of all his family’s nonsense, he agreed. “Let’s get out of here,” he said, taking Crowley’s hand.

And that’s how the two of them ended up getting drunk in the garden just outside the wedding venue, and how Aziraphale ended up getting a much bigger crush on his co-worker.


	6. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After one prevents the apocalypse, some celebration is - of course - in order.

Aziraphale sipped his wine a little, as he looked carefully at his enemy turned friend. Crowley started back at him; cold amber eyes obscured by his dark sunglasses as he downed some whiskey.

“A toast,” offered Aziraphale. “To the world.”

“To the world,” said Crowley in agreement. They clinked their glasses together. Aziraphale could feel the tension between them throughout the whole meal. It was clear that something was going on. Something was hanging between them, crucial but unspoken.

He was going to say something but couldn’t quite bring himself to. What if he was wrong? What if the signs he had picked up on weren’t signs at all? What if he lost the only friend he had because of a little crush? A little later, when they were on their back to Aziraphale’s bookshop, Crowley stopped dead in his tracks. Sighing, he started to ramble.

“There’s something between us Angel. We both know there is. At least I did, but I never said anything because of well... downstairs. But now we’re free and... I know it sounds ridiculous, but can I kiss you?”

He glanced at Aziraphale with pleading eyes. Aziraphale was stunned into silence for just a moment. Then his courage found him again. “Yes.”

Crowley pulls him close, hands firm on his shoulders. It’s the most comfortable and at home that Aziraphale has felt in a millennium. It reminds him of being wrapped up in a warm blanket or a pair of soft wings.

In the moment where Crowley presses his lips against his Angel’s, the electric energy between them finally finds an outlet, releasing as sparks of passion. Crowley’s face is all sharp lines, while his lips are soft and gentle. They are laced with the lingering taste of bitter whiskey intertwined with just a little of the sweet white wine Aziraphale offered him early in the evening. Crowley was gentle words and angry outbursts, furious with the system he was trapped in.

Crowley is a beautiful conundrum of contradictions.

And in that moment, everything finally falls into place. They are no longer an angel and a demon. They are themselves. Crowley and Aziraphale. Their love makes every confusing thing that’s happened and every sacrifice they’ve made for each other make sense at last.

“Satan I’ve wanted to that for a while,” admitted Crowley, pulling away.

“As have I. It’s certainly one way to celebrate preventing the apocalypse.”

“That it is.”


	7. Hurt/Comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes changing every single thing about your life can be difficult...

Most days are good days now. A vast majority of them are filled with happy times and they’re both better off without their respective head offices. Even with all that, it was hard to forget their previous lives.

Aziraphale occasionally goes to call head office at the end of the day when he’s acting on instinct and following habit. And Crowley still half expects Hastur and Ligur to show up on his television. Why Hastur always choose to contact him that way, Crowley would never know.

There are bad days though.

Days where Aziraphale wakes up in a blind panic, clutching at his chest. When Crowley comes to check on him, a part of Aziraphale is mentally screaming that Crowley is in danger because of him

What will the demons to Crowley if they find out that he’s with an angel?

What if Aziraphale never sees him again?

What if this was the last time?

It is strange that Aziraphale is never concerned about his own safety. Never terrified of the things that the angels could (and would) do to him. The way he saw it, Crowley’s safety was always more precious to him than his own.

On those days, when everything feels so chaotic, the one constant Aziraphale has is Crowley. Crowley has a masterful ability to stay calm in such situations.

When the anxiety rises in Aziraphale’s chest, Crowley is the one who reminds him to breathe.

Crowley is the one who makes him chamomile tea to calm him.

Crowley is the one who always stays, no matter what.

So, there are good days and bad days, but Crowley makes the bad days more bearable.


	8. Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angels are pretty terrible dancers. And demons aren't much better.  
> Basically, Aziraphale teaches Crowley the waltz.

“Don’t be ridiculous Aziraphale,” teased Crowley. “Everyone knows Angels can’t dance.”

“That’s not true. I can dance the gavotte,” responded Aziraphale, as he tidied up a few messy shelves in his bookshop.

“So, you can do an outdated dance from the 1880s,” said Crowley kicking his legs over the arm rest of the bookshop’s battered old sofa, sitting in the peculiar way he always sat. “I’m impressed actually. Most angels can’t even manage that.”

“You’re not much better, my dear,” sighed Aziraphale. “I’ve seen you dance. Your style is certainly modern, but it leaves much to be desired.” It was true. Crowley danced like a drunk giraffe, who was somehow also high on cocaine.

“More modern that yours that’s for sure,” said Crowley. “There’s one old fashioned dance I always wanted to watch though.”

“That being?”

“The waltz. Always thought it was a beautiful dance.” The statement hangs in the air for just a second. Then Aziraphale speaks up.

“I know how to waltz. I’m not good at it but I do know the steps. I could teach you if you would like.”

Crowley quickly agreed. Setting down the books he was holding, Aziraphale wandered over to the antique gramophone sitting in the corner. Pulling out a personal favourite record of his he set the spike down.

Soon melodious music was filling the room. It wasn’t a complicated song, not really, being just a simple waltz but it was eerily beautiful none the less. Aziraphale offered out his hand.

“So, my dear, will you allow me to have this dance?” he asked.

“Most certainly,” replied Crowley. “How do we start?”

“Well, we both put one hand on the other’s hips, with the other being free to lead,” explained Aziraphale, going to set up the starting stance. It’s sort of like a box step. First we take a step forward and…”

Aziraphale went to demonstrate at the same time that Crowley took a similar step forward. They collided in the middle, Crowley damn near falling over as he lost his balance. It was only because Aziraphale hand on his hips that kept him standing.

“Sorry,” mumbled Crowley.

“It’s okay. I should have specified,” reassured Aziraphale. “I’ll step forward and you step back.”

“Okay.”

Aziraphale took the step and Crowley did the same. “Then to the left and backwards and right and so on.”

The lilting music went on as they danced together in step. “I guess not all angels are bad at dancing after all,” teased Crowley. Aziraphale frowned and lightly tapped him across the back of the head.

“You say that like you ever doubted me.”


	9. Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a bad habit of stealing Aziraphale's sweaters, so Aziraphale decides to get a little revenge.

“Crowley dear, have you seen my sweater? I can’t find it,” called out Aziraphale as he rooted through his wardrobe. He definitely put it in the wardrobe yesterday whilst putting away the laundry.

“Which one?” yelled Crowley in response.

“The cream one with the diamond pattern. Do you know where it is?” he asked. Crowley wandered into the room, wearing a pair of dark jeans and the very sweater Aziraphale was looking for. “I have no idea,” said Crowley with a smirk. He was clearly pulling Aziraphale’s leg.

“You’re wearing it right now Crowley.”

“Am I? Hadn’t noticed.”

“Give it back,” demanded Aziraphale.

“I don’t want to,” whined Crowley. “It’s my favourite sweater.”

“It’s not even yours!” exclaimed Aziraphale, almost irritated. “How would you feel if I stole your clothes?”

Crowley raised an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t have the guts.”

Aziraphale squinted a little, threw open the wardrobe doors and pulled out the first thing of Crowley’s that he laid his hands on. It wasn’t hard to tell their clothes apart as their palettes were so distinct.

He felt the buttery soft leather of the clothing underneath his fingers and realised that he had pulled out a leather jacket. How terribly alternative. Still, Aziraphale was not one to be bested and pulled on the jacket with a flourish.

The shocked expression on Crowley’s face was hilarious, as he looked down at the ground. “It looks good on you…” he mumbled quietly.

“Pardon?”

“It looks good on you. You should borrow my clothes more often.”

Aziraphale smiled a little as he checked himself out in the mirror. “I hate to admit it, but it is quite the stylish accoutrement. And this is really a silly little squabble that we’re having dear. Let’s put this argument to bed, shall we?”

Crowley nodded. “Why do you always steal my clothes anyway?” asked Aziraphale, as they went to leave the room.

“They smell like you,” admitted Crowley. “And it’s comforting.”

Aziraphale chucked a little at the sudden honesty. There was something strangely relatable about it. Wearing Crowley’s jacket fills him with a strange elation and confidence.

Who knew that clothing could have such a huge impact?


	10. A Snowy Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale spend a morning playing in the snow with little Warlock. Ineffable Husbands being Ineffable Fathers.

Crowley had experienced many rude awakenings in his lifetime. This was a prime example of one. His young charge had thrown open the door and pounced onto Crowley’s bed, startling him awake.

“Nanny. Nanny. Nanny,” he repeated incessantly. “Are you awake?”

“I certainly am now,” he sighed. “What have I told you about waking me up early young man?

“Not to do it. But look,” he exclaimed, pulling apart the curtains. “It’s snowing!”

The kid was practically trembling with excitement. It was then that Crowley realized in the seven years he had been caring for warlock, it hadn’t snowed once. Call it coincidence, call it something else, but the truth of the matter was that Warlock had never seen snow.

Well there was one time when he was just a toddler, but there was no way that he could have remembered that. He was only two years old.

“Can we go play in the snow Nanny?” he begged.

Crowley nodded in agreement. “Go get dressed and I’ll meet you downstairs.”

“Do I have to get dressed?” whined Warlock. “I don’t want to.”

“Yes, Lock. You have to wear proper clothes outside - especially if it’s snowing - or you’ll get a cold.” Warlock crossed his arms over his dinosaur pyjamas in mock defiance.

“Don’t want to,” he grumbled.

Crowley smirked a little. “If you go get dressed right now, I’ll ask Mr Francis if he will come with us.”

Warlock immediately beamed and raced off into his room. He absolutely adored the gentle gardener, who was just Aziraphale in disguise. Crowley was ever so slightly jealous.

Crowley quickly dressed himself and went to check on Warlock. Warlock was struggling to do up the buttons of his coat. Crowley quickly buttoned the coat up for him.

The two proceeded to go downstairs, stopping in the kitchen before leaving. Crowley smiled and greeted one of the cooks, Maria. “Morning Maria,” he said.

“Miss Ashtoreth, you’re up early,” remarked Maria, as she wiped down the side.

“Well, this one wanted to go out in the snow, and I can’t say no to him.” He quickly ruffled Warlock’s hair. Maria laughed a little. “Anyway, if Mrs Dowling asks where we are, can you tell her that we’ve gone out in the woods? We’ll be back by ten o’clock.”

“Absolutely Miss Ashtoreth,” replied Maria, though both she and Crowley knew that Mrs Dowling wouldn’t ask. She was involved very little in the raising of her son. One might feel inclined to call her a bad mother, but her husband wasn’t much better. Not bad parents, just absent.

Though that could be much worse. Crowley had seen how sad Warlock was when his parents were never there to pick him up from school or always missed his football games. There was only so much Crowley could do to lessen that pain, mostly by just being there for his charge.

Crowley and Warlock made their way out the draft old mansion, into the grounds of the house. The gardens had been carefully tended to by Aziraphale for over seven years. Aziraphale knew every single plant, every herb, every tree, and every flower on the grounds with an almost encyclopaedic standard.

They soon arrived at the tiny house that Crowley stayed in. He slept further out on the grounds so that he could easily tend to all plants there and didn’t have to travel hours into the grounds every morning.

He knocked on the door, where a bed headed Aziraphale answered. “Good morning Crow- I mean Miss Ashtoreth. What brings you to my place so early in the morning?”

“Warlock wanted you to come play with us. It’s snowing.”

“It certainly is. Give me five minutes to get ready and I’ll come.”

About five minutes later, Aziraphale came back outside, looking considerably neater and better dressed. They started with the most classic snow day activity – making a snowman. Warlock insisted on doing it himself and because his fine motor skills weren’t the best, the snowman ended up considerably lopsided.

Crowley immediately suggested a snowball fight, which was fun. Warlock was exceptionally good at sneaking up on them. After a while, Crowley checked his watch and decided it was time to make their way back.

Halfway back to the house, Warlock announced that he was too exhausted to take another step and demanded that Aziraphale carry him the rest of the way. Aziraphale happily complied, scooping the child up in his arms.

A few minutes later, Warlock was sound asleep, his head rested against Aziraphale’s chest. “He’s pretty tuckered out,” chucked Aziraphale.

“He had an early morning,” said Crowley. “He really loves you. I mean, he never lets me carry him. Not anymore.”

“He loves you too. He talks about you all the time. Thinks you’re incredible.”

Crowley smiled. They had raised such a sweet boy.

Before they even knew it, they were back at the house. Crowley took the sleeping Warlock and bade Aziraphale goodbye. Being as careful as he could not to wake up the kid, he put him down for his nap.

Godfathers. They were Godfathers.


	11. Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is a young chef who recently got a job at the illustrious White Rose restaurant. There he meets the infamous head chef Anthony Crowley.

Aziraphale was ever so slightly nervous. He has started his new job as a line cook at the exclusive White Rose restaurant and really needed to keep this job. Otherwise, he’d have to move back with his parents, and he did not want to do that.

He took a moment to take stock of his station and fetched a few of the tea towels from the trolley. It was then that the doors to the kitchen swung open and Aziraphale found himself face to face with the head chef, Crowley.

“Sorry I’m late everyone. My car broke down,” he announced. The entire room had gone silent in his presence. Was it fear, or was it respect? Aziraphale couldn’t tell, though he had heard plenty of rumours from the other cooks, even before he started working here.

It was difficult to get through five years in the industry with no knowledge of the infamous head chef. He was well known for his incredibly high standards, excellent palette, and occasional moments of fury.

It would be easy to assume that he was a cruel man, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. As Aziraphale would soon learn, there wasn’t a vengeful bone in Crowley’s body. He was just a perfectionist.

“We open in ten minutes. I hope you’re all ready for the dinner rush. As for you newbies…” he cast a cursory glance in the direction of Aziraphale and two other young chefs. “Have fun and try to keep up. Also note that I will correct any mistakes immediately and I will not use sugar coating words. If you can’t handle that then get the hell out of my kitchen.”

The three newbies stood stubbornly still. Crowley smirked. “I see. Good luck.”

He strode over to his station next to Aziraphale and immediately scowled. “Who the fuck’s been touching my stuff? I swear to god if it’s that busboy again I will fire his ass!” he yelled, rearranging his various seasonings and sauces.

Noticing Aziraphale staring at him, he spoke again. “A word of advice. Never touch another chef’s knife and never fuck with his station. Remember those two things and we’ll get along just fine.”

Aziraphale was too startled to speak and just nodded. He didn’t have time to be startled for long, and soon orders began trickling in.

They were handling it well. Crowley was filling in wherever needed and keeping everyone in line.

Then like a crashing tidal wave, all the orders came at once. People were struggling to keep up and with that struggle came mistakes.

Mistakes that Crowley was not pleased about in the least.

Aziraphale jumped a little as Crowley slammed a pan down on the bench a few feet away. “How the hell do you forget to season risotto?” he yelled. “Make it again. And better this time!”

“Yes chef,” responded the young woman. Aziraphale recognised her as one of the new recruits. She seemed to be handling things well, but he would probably ask how she was holding up once things slowed down a bit. Not that there was any sign of that happening any time soon.

Distracted, he went to pick up a tray handed to him by the broiler man and failed to realise that the pan - which had just been in the broiler - would be blisteringly hot. Letting out a yelp, he dropped the tray on the floor. The sound caused everyone on the line to turn and look at him.

He would have been embarrassed had he not been in so much pain. Crowley made a start toward him and Aziraphale immediately tried to reassure him. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Don’t worry.”

Crowley turned to his sous-chef Bea. “Beatriz, take over my station for a minute!” he ordered. Then he grabbed Aziraphale by the arm and dragged him to the sinks at the back of the room.

“You’ll wanna run that under cold water for a bit,” he said, rooting around in the cupboard under the sink. He pulled out a white first aid box, which he set on the side. Deliberating for a second, he took Aziraphale’s hand in his and looked at his burn.

“Doesn’t look to serious,” he said, handing Aziraphale a roll of blue bandage and some aspirin. “Wrap that around the burns. The aspirin is for the pain. Come back on the line when you’re ready. That is if you can.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve done this more than you think.”

“I can tell. You have a chef’s hands.”

Aziraphale knew what he meant. It was possible to judge a chef by the state of their hands. A good cook would have a myriad of scars and burns after just a few years. It was just a part of the job. A tiny part of him wondered what Crowley’s hands were like.

Crowley smiled a tiny bit – just enough for Aziraphale to think he might say something – and went back to the line. Aziraphale quickly wrapped up his hand and followed after his head chef.


	12. Adopting a pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale decide to get a dog.

Aziraphale and Crowley were spending a quiet Sunday afternoon in Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale looked up from his book and spoke. “We should get a dog. Might liven up the place.”

Crowley immediately agreed. “I always wanted a dog. Man’s best friend.”

“Or an angel and a demon in this case,” responded Aziraphale with a chuckle.

That was how the two of them ended up at the local animal shelter, hand in hand. The woman at the desk handed them a form to fill out, just so that the shelter could know a bit more about them.

The form was simple enough. Aziraphale forbade Crowley from putting ‘agent of darkness and chaos’ in the space for job title, which Crowley was not pleased with, as he insisted that it was an accurate description of his job as a demon.

Aziraphale quickly noted down small business owner for himself, still chucking a little.

Once that was done, the teen boy at the counter showed them around the kennels. Aziraphale was enamoured by every single dog he laid his eyes on, all of which adored him immediately. Crowley got quite the different response. Most of the dogs seemed wary of him, and a few even looked frightened – with their tails between their legs.

A tiny part of his brain told him that this was because dogs were a good judge of character. And he was bad.

While he was moping at the realisation that he might never find a dog – or any animal - who liked him, his eyes fell upon a pair of bright brown eyes staring at him intently through the kennel bars.

Those eyes belonged to a medium sized mutt with a gentle expression. He was a mix of several different breeds, but it was hard to tell which. There was probably some German Shepherd in him; he had the same build as a shepherd dog and the same seeming drive to please. His colouring was a little bit everything – mostly a soft brown with accents of black and tan.

“Hey boy,” he said. “You got a name?”

The dog barked in response, and Crowley looked at the name tag hung on the cage. “Duke huh? Doesn’t really fit you does it? You’re too sweet for that name.”

He pressed his hand against the bars, and Duke (still felt wrong) licked at his fingers. “Hey Angel, come over here!” he called.

“Found someone you like?” asked Aziraphale, making his way over.

“Yeah. His name is Duke,” said Crowley.

“Doesn’t really fit him, does it? Too sweet.” Duke had immediately started the puppy dog eyes act and Aziraphale couldn’t stop smiling.

“Exactly what I said.”

That was how Crowley and Aziraphale ended up bringing home a dog from the shelter. Whilst they were settling Duke in and setting up his things, they discussed changing the dog’s name.

“Duke really doesn’t fit,” said Aziraphale.“Nope. We should think of another name,” said Crowley “What about Freddie? Like Freddie Mercury.”

Aziraphale blinked and cleared his throat. “Ah yes, Freddie Mercury. The… basketball player…” he said uncertainly.

Crowley sighed. “Queen.”

“What does Queen Elizabeth have to do with this?” asked Aziraphale with a confused expression plastered across his face

“The band Angel, not the person. Freddie is the lead singer in the band Queen. We’ve been over this.”

“It’s not my fault. There are so many musicians now. How am I meant to keep up with them all?” whined Aziraphale. “I like Freddie though.”

“Freddie it is.”

It was then that the newly christened Freddie clambered onto Aziraphale’s lap, turned around and promptly went to sleep. “It appears that he thinks he’s a lap dog,” chucked Aziraphale.

“You silly boy,” said Crowley giving Freddie a gentle stroke between the ears. “Do you want some tea?”

“Absolutely. I would help but as you can see, I’m a little tied up right now.” Crowley guffawed with laughter, going to put on the kettle.


	13. The Perfect Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is great at giving gifts.

Aziraphale has never been one for change. There was a reason that he stayed in heaven, while angels like Crowley fell. He preferred to stick to the same routines, the same meals and even the same clothing - day in, day out.

That’s why he was so upset when he dropped his favourite mug on the floor. Because it meant change. He started picking up the pieces with a frown on his face. A part of him wanted to miracle it back together, but deep down he knew that he couldn’t. Heaven had cut off his divine power after the whole betraying them thing.

“Are you okay Angel? I heard a crash,” said Crowley, making his way into the small kitchen attached to their bookshop. Aziraphale shook his head.

“I broke my favourite mug…” he mumbled. “I really liked that mug.”

“Couldn’t you just buy a new one?” asked Crowley. “Or the same one again, if you wanted.”

“I would do but the Esty store I had bought it in closed down a year ago.”

Crowley stayed quiet for a few seconds, almost as if he were deep in thought, before going to help Aziraphale clean up the spilled tea.

Four days later, a strange package appeared on Aziraphale’s desk. It was a not an overly large package and was wrapped in crinkly white paper, complete with a silver bow.

“Crowley, there’s a box on my desk.”

“Yeah, it’s a gift. For you,” called Crowley from the other side of the shop.

Aziraphale turned the box over in his hands before going to untie the ribbon. Then, he carefully tore the paper and found a box… A neat white cardboard box.

“It’s a box?” he said, confused.

Crowley laughed. “The gift’s inside the box silly.”

Aziraphale went to open the box and pulled out a mug, identical to his previous one right down to the feathers on the winged handle. Crowley made his way over. “Is it the same one?” Aziraphale mumbled. “How?”

“Yeah, it’s the same make,” reassured Crowley. “It was really hard to track it down the seller. I managed to convince him to make one last one though. There’s just one tiny difference.”

He lifted the mug from Crowley’s hand and turned it around. Written on the side of the mug in the demon’s signature scrawl was a message.

_For my Angel._

_From your loving demon._

“Crowley I… I…” Aziraphale couldn’t make the words come out. Couldn’t structure his sentences. Couldn’t formulate the thank you. It was all too overwhelming.

Crowley rested his hand on his husband’s shoulder. “I love you Aziraphale. I’m sorry if it’s too much.”

“No, no. I love it. It’s the perfect gift.”

It is at that moment that Aziraphale resolved to purchase a matching mug for Crowley. One with black wings, just like his. And he would add a little message for Crowley. Something kind. Something that let Crowley know how much Aziraphale loved him.


	14. Carrying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Consecrated ground is difficult for demons to deal with. Luckily enough, Crowley has his angel to help him.

There were many downsides to being a fallen. A minor, but inconvenient one was his inability to walk on consecrated ground. Well it wasn’t that he was unable – he could do it with some effort – but it was certainly painful to do so. The shooting pains it sent up his legs were nothing to sneeze at.

Still Aziraphale had managed to get himself double (triple?) crossed by some Nazi spies. He was in danger and Crowley wasn’t going to let something bad happen to his angel.

Not his, he reminded himself. His friend, but not his. And Aziraphale would probably never be his. Not in the way he wanted him to be.

Faced with the prospect of his friend’s death, he decided to use a little bit of his demonic power to send a bomb to blow up the Church, leaving him and Aziraphale as the only survivors.

They didn’t even discorporate.

It was then that Crowley leaned something that really should have been obvious. Holy ground is still holy ground – even if it is completely decimated and reduced to rubble. Even with all that, he was still racked with pain.

He handed Aziraphale’s books back to him with a faint smile. “Thank you for helping me Crowley,” said Aziraphale, noticing that something was wrong. “Are you okay?” he asked.

He hissed at the pain. “It’s just… I’m still technically on consecrated ground and it- It really hurts.”

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look. “I could carry you maybe, if that helps,” he offered.

Crowley was about to refuse when another bolt of pain jumped up his leg. Suddenly desperate, he agreed. Aziraphale was surprising strong and easily held Crowley in a fireman’s lift. A part of Crowley’s brain wondered where Aziraphale learned how to do that.

He tried to offer Aziraphale a lift back to his shop, but Aziraphale refused, saying it would simply be too much of an inconvenience. Crowley watched Aziraphale leave, his heart filled with complicated emotions.

That dreary Friday evening, instead of Aziraphale falling for Crowley, they both fell for each other.

Even if neither of them said anything. They were far too stubborn for that.


	15. Cuddles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale gives great hugs and Crowley is pleased about it.

Calling Aziraphale overly affectionate was the understatement of the century. He hugged Crowley as often as possible, Warlock whenever the boy would allow it, and even strangers sometimes - especially when they were aggravated or upset.

Whenever he tried to hug a stranger, they were usually angry or confused at first, but quickly relaxed in his arms. It was a handy trick for conflict resolution. He just had a naturally calming aura.

This calming aura came in handy while dealing with Warlock throughout his childhood – from the terrible twos right up to the boy’s teen years. It calmed him when he was throwing a tantrum as a toddler and comforted him through his more hormonal years.

When Crowley has a bad day, when he is infuriated at the actions of downstairs, when it feels like everyone is going wrong, he takes full advantage of this power Aziraphale possesses.

Perhaps it was just an angel thing. Though Crowley found this hard to believe.

He would posit that it was likely a thing excusive to Aziraphale; it was hard to imagine any of the other angels being a good hugger. The image of being held by Gabriel for any extended period sent a shiver down Crowley’s spine. No, absolutely not.

“Are you okay dear?” asked Aziraphale as Crowley grimaced mid snuggle. They were spread across the sofa in Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley was practically lying atop of Aziraphale, though Aziraphale didn’t mind at all.

“Just had the image of hugging Gabriel pop into my head. No thank you,” he laughed.

Aziraphale giggled, a high melodious sound. “I can imagine. Guess you’re stuck with me then. I hope you’re okay with that,” he teased.

“Less talking and more cuddling,” whined Crowley, burying his face in Aziraphale’s chest. Aziraphale patted him on the head and brushed his fingers through his lover’s bristly red hair.

A few seconds later, Aziraphale noticed that Crowley was being unusually quiet. “Are you asleep dear?” he asked.

“No. I’m not asleep,” mumbled Crowley, stretching himself out a little before settling down again.

“If you want to go to sleep, that’s okay.”

“I’m not sleepy…”

Two minutes later Crowley was sound asleep and snoring softly. Aziraphale smiled a little, right as his leg fell asleep. But he just didn’t have the heart to wake Crowley up and ask him to move.

So, he let Crowley nap on him for just a little while longer. He soon found himself dozing off as well.


	16. Oblivious Crush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has a undeniable crush on his classmate Aziraphale, and his friends are NOT helping. 
> 
> Beatriz is Beelzebub, Haz is Hastur, Lee is Ligur and Damon is Dagon.

“How is he this damn oblivious?” bemoaned Crowley, spreading out across his desk. Beatriz gave him a look and rolled her eyes.

“What’s happened now?” she asked. Crowley took a quick look out into the hallway to make sure there were no teachers coming, before pulling out his phone. He showed Beatriz his messages to Aziraphale.

There were a lot of hearts. Too many to be normal. Mostly from him.

Beatriz smirked a little at a message and Crowley immediately knew what she had seen. He had made a joke, some little joke about his being Aziraphale’s school boyfriend. Aziraphale had called him silly and they continued joking around.

“Wow, you got it bad,” snickered Beatriz. “Sucks to be you, I guess.”

Crowley made a joking move to slap Beatriz over the back of the head as she burst out laughing. “You’re not helping Bea.

“That’s me, not helping since ’03.”

At that moment, Haz, Damon and Lee walked in. “What’s Bea not helping with?” asked Haz, sitting down across the desk from Crowley on a turned around chair. Lee perched on the edge of Crowley’s desk.

Crowley didn’t respond and just laid himself face down on his desk grumbling to himself. “He’s in love,” whispered Beatriz. “And it’s making him an idiot.”

“I can hear you, you know,” mumbled Crowley, looking up. His face was turning bright red with embarrassment

“We know hon.” Bea patted him on the shoulder in a way Crowley would have considered condescending had he not been closer to Bea. They had been friends since they were kids.

“Wait, you’re still on that guy?” asked Damon, pushing his long white hair from his face. “The Jehovah’s witness looking kid? What’s his name again? It’s something stupid and fancy.”

“Aziraphale Eden,” replied Crowley. “And he’s not a Jehovah’s witness. He’s a practicing Catholic.”

“Is he… homophobic?” interjected Lee, leaning dangerously far back in his chair.

Crowley shook his head. “His parents low key are, but he’s not.”

“What’s stopping you then?”

Crowley went to speak, but then buried his face in his hands. “He’s straight. There’s no way he likes me.”

Across the school Aziraphale was having a similar conversation with his brother. Gabriel had given Aziraphale a sharp look. “You do know that boy has a crush on you right?” he said.

“There’s no way he likes me,” responded Aziraphale. “We’re just friends.”

But even he wasn’t too sure now. Obliviousness did, after all, have its limits.


	17. Kemonomimi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A minor mess up downstairs leaves Crowley with cat ears for the day.

The doorbell to Aziraphale’s bookshop rang out through the quiet building. “Just a moment,” he called. “You should know that we close in fifteen minutes though.”

“It’s me angel!” yelled back Crowley. “Can I come in?” Aziraphale quickly agreed and heard the door open and close as Crowley shuffled into the room.

He turned around to see a thoroughly embarrassed Crowley. He was wearing an out of fashion top hat that was still a little dusty. It likely hadn’t been worn in decades, so that was reasonable.

“Bringing back the 1800’s, are we?” teased Aziraphale.

“Buzz off Aziraphale. I’m only wearing them to hide the… um…” he trailed off a little. Aziraphale raised an eyebrow. “Promise you won’t laugh?” he said.

Aziraphale quickly agreed and Crowley removed the hat, revealing a pair of neat brown cat ears. “Downstairs messed up my physical form after I discorporated the other day. They accidently combined my body with another Demon’s animal form… It was a cat.”

“Evidently.” Aziraphale couldn’t resist the urge to smirk.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not,” insisted Aziraphale. “I just think it makes you look cute.” He stood up on his tip toes and made a move to touch the ears. Crowley would have resisted, but he was too exhausted to do much.

“They’re soft,” remarked Aziraphale, settling back down on the ground. Crowley rolled his eyes but said nothing. “When will it get fixed?” he asked.

“Don’t know. Beelzebub said it might take a day or two to straighten everything out. Fill in all the paperwork. All that. I can’t really be outside because, you know, cat ears. Can I stay with you for a day or two?”

“Most certainly,” said Aziraphale. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I have a coffee.”

Aziraphale set the drink down on the table in front of Crowley a minute later. Crowley’s cat ears twitched forward with interest at the familiar smell. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from giggling a little.

Immediately, Crowley’s ears began flicking back and forth. Aziraphale found his thoughts coming back to a book he had read about animal behaviour. If he remembered correctly, twitching ears were a sign of irritation.

“I’m not laughing at you dear. Your ears are sweet, is all. Sweet like you.”

“I’m not sweet.”

In that moment, Aziraphale realises just how catlike Crowley was. He was abrasive with strangers, cuddly with those he liked, and overall, slightly antisocial. He took long naps (Aziraphale still remembered the time when he didn’t see Crowley for a century, which Crowley had excused as a prolonged cat nap) and enjoyed the night.

Crowley was more of a cat than he had first thought.


	18. Embarrassing Secret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley has been hiding something from Aziraphale...

As a rule, Crowley and Aziraphale didn’t keep secrets from each other. Secrets were silly really. If you had such a strong desire to keep something a secret from your lover, then the relationship was likely not too strong to start with.

Still Aziraphale had a feeling that Crowley was hiding something from him, which was worrying to say the least. It was a bunch of little things that were snowballing into a big ball of worry.

For one, Crowley had been more protective of his phone lately. Not in a massively obvious way. It’s just… sometimes he would turn his phone over during meals or hastily cover up his screen when Aziraphale walked past. And Aziraphale had noticed a few charges on their credit card account that he didn’t recognise.

The was also the matter of Crowley coming home late some days with no excuse as for where he was.

Even though Aziraphale hated to admit it, he was worried that Crowley was cheating. It wasn’t a completely implausible, Crowley was a demon after all. Lying and deception was practically in his blood.

Aziraphale was shaking with fear and anger when he confronted his lover. He had laid out all his evidence. Weeks of little things that were bothering him. Crowley had listened to everything and immediately apologised.

“I didn’t want you to find out until it was done,” he said. “But Anathema was teaching me - god this is embarrassing – she’s teaching me how to knit. That’s what all the texts were about. Also, I was visiting her and Newt’s place so she could help me out with the trickier bits.”

“You were knitting?” asked Aziraphale incredulously.

“It’s silly really. But I noticed that your favourite jumper was getting a little worn out, so I thought I’d make you another. And then Anathema offered to teach me how. I’m sorry for making you worry.”

Two days later, Crowley hands Aziraphale a wrapped package. Opening it, Aziraphale found a soft woollen jumper, knit with blue yarn. It was by no means perfect – there were plenty of dropped stitches – but it was a touching gift.

This starts a sort of tradition between the two, were Crowley gifts Aziraphale a new jumper every year. It is safe to say, Aziraphale is quite the fan of this tradition.


	19. Late Night Craving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get when you combine an angel with a sweet tooth and a demon who'll do anything for his lover?  
> A lot of late night snack breaks is what.

Angels and demons didn’t really need to sleep – their corporeal forms could exist just fine without it – but that doesn’t mean they don’t do it. Crowley for one slept quite a lot, mostly because he enjoyed it. Sleeping was relaxing and a good way to destress.

Aziraphale on the other hand, never slept. The way he saw it, sleeping was a waste of time that could be spent on other things. Reading was one such example. Eating was another. It was a far better indulgence too in his opinion.

It was a common enough occurrence for Crowley to expect it, but it still startled him when his phone rang in the middle of the night. He picked up the phone to hear Aziraphale on the other end.

“Good afternoon dear,” came a cheery voice from the other end of the line.

Crowley sighed. “It’s the middle of the night, Aziraphale.”

“Is it?” said Aziraphale. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Yes, you bloody well did. And you know I sleep at night.” He wasn’t angry really, just sort of annoyed.

A pause hung in the air.

“What time do you want me to pick you up?” asked Crowley.

“In ten minutes please,” said Aziraphale. “I have to finish getting dressed.”

Ten minutes later, he pulled up outside Aziraphale’s bookshop in his Bentley. It turned out that Aziraphale had a craving for something sweet and he asked if they could go to a café or coffee shop.

That’s how the two of them ended up in a local coffee shop at three in the morning. Crowley couldn’t help but smile as he watched Aziraphale dig into his angel cake. Fitting really…


	20. Sharing a Bed.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale tries to miracle up a bed at Crowley's apartment but it doesn't work...

Miracles work in a strange way. For them to work, you must genuinely want something to happen. You can’t use a miracle to do something you honestly didn’t want to happen. Aziraphale learned this the day after the apocalypse that wasn’t, when he went to stay at Crowley’s apartment. His destroyed bookshop would need repairing and it wasn’t like he had anywhere else to go.

He had offered to miracle up another bed to sleep in, so he wouldn’t disturb Crowley. At least, that was the excuse he gave. If he was being honest, he was worried that being so close to Crowley might give him ideas. Ideas that Crowley might like him back. That there might be a chance for them to be something more. More than just friends.

Besides, he didn’t really like Crowley in that way. It was a little crush and nothing more.

So, he snapped his fingers…

And nothing happened.

“Is there something wrong with your miracles?” asked Crowley. “Do you think heaven cut of your power?”

“I hope not…”

He snapped his fingers again and his mug of cocoa floated over to him. He could still use miracles… Then why couldn’t he miracle this bed into existence?

“Maybe you’re just tired?” offered Crowley.

“Maybe… This has never been a problem before though."

Crowley frowned a little. “That is weird. I guess you’ll just have to sleep with me then.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from blushing as he climbed into bed with Crowley. Crowley was unbothered and out like a light in seconds. Aziraphale quickly joined him.

The next morning, Aziraphale conjured up his handbook. He had read through it when he first received it 6000 years ago but had forgotten most of it. Flicking through a few chapters, he eventually found what he needed.

Underneath the heading _The Specifics of Miracle Use_ was a brief paragraph.

_It should be noted that miracles are only successful when the angel in question wants the end result to occur. Otherwise, the miracle simply will not work._

So that’s why he couldn’t miracle up another bed. Wait… did that mean he wanted to sleep with Crowley. Oh Lord. This was bad. His crush on Crowley was a little deeper than he thought.


	21. Neighbours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is a single foster dad of an eight year old Warlock. Aziraphale is the kind bookshop owner down the street. One day, Warlock is sick and can't go to school so he ends up staying with Aziraphale for the day.

“Warlock are you awake?” asked Crowley, giving his son a shake. “You’re going to be late for school.”

“I don’t feel very well Dad,” mumbled Warlock. Crowley pressed a hand to Warlock’s forehead.

“You do have a temperature…” he rescinded. “It’s probably just a cold though. I think you’re fine to go to school.”

It was at that exact moment that Warlock threw up all over Crowley’s favourite pair of shoes.

Safe to say, Warlock would not be going to school that day.

That put Crowley in a difficult position. Warlock was too young to be left home alone – he was only eight years old – and Crowley didn’t really know anyone who could watch the kid. He would have taken the day off work, but he didn’t have any sick days left.

He was racking his brain for a solution; he gave Warlock his porridge. Warlock was disinterested in his food, which was worrying. “Are you not hungry kiddo?” he asked.

“Don’t want to eat. I’ll be sick again.”

Crowley patted him on the shoulder. “Can you please try to eat a couple of bites for me? You’ll feel worse later if you don’t eat.”

Warlock still seemed apprehensive. “I’ll put some honey in your porridge if you promise to eat some for me,” offered Crowley, just as he sent a message to Mrs Young asking if she could babysit Warlock for the day. Unfortunately, she couldn’t because she was taking Adam to therapy and Mr Young was at work. How irritating.

His son perked up a little at the offer of something sweet. Crowley fetched the bottle of honey from the fridge and set it down on the kitchen table, just a little harder than he intended. Warlock jumped a little. “Are you mad at me daddy?” he asked between spoonsful of porridge. “I’m sorry I’m sick.”

“I’m not mad at you, kiddo. You can’t help being sick. It’s just…” Warlock gave him an inquisitive look.

“You know how daddy had to do special lessons so I could look after you?” he said. Warlock nodded. “Well anyone who babysits you has to have the same lessons. And I can’t find anyone to look after you because the only people I know who’ve done the lessons are Mr and Mrs Young.”

He took a sip of his coffee and watched the gears turn in Warlock’s mind.

“Adam told me that the new guy down the street looked after him when Anathema and Newt were busy last week. The one with the bookshop,” Warlock said, poking his porridge around his bowl. Crowley messaged Mrs Young to confirm this fact and it turned out to be true.

A few minutes later, Crowley had managed to arrange for the town’s bookseller to babysit Warlock. It was a good deal. The guy had a completely clean criminal record – without so much as a speeding ticket – had completed the training and he worked from home, meaning that he was available all day. Plus, he adored kids!

The only requests the guy had was that Warlock wash his hands before touching any of the books in the shop.

Warlock finished his breakfast and fetched his backpack from his room. Crowley had packed some books, including his favourite colouring book, and some colouring pencils. “Have you got your shoes on?” asked Crowley pulling on his boots and zipping them up on the side. Warlock fiddled with his laces before promptly giving up.

“Can you do it Daddy? I can’t remember how.”

Crowley crouched down and tied up the laces quickly. “You really need to learn how to tie your shoes Lock. You’re nearly nine.”

“It’s hard! I can’t remember all the steps and if I can remember them, they get all muddled up in my brain.” Crowley stood up and dusted off his jeans. He wasn’t exactly happy about how the house was often dirty or coated in dust, but he was a busy single father. All in all, he was lucky if he managed to sweep up once a week but with such a young kid (who tended to track in dirt as kids did) that did little to help.

“Come on kiddo,” he said. “I need to drop you off at Mr Eden’s shop early enough that I can get to work on time.”

“Kay!”

Aziraphale had never heard much of this Anthony Crowley fella – granted he had only been living in Tadfield for two weeks. But Anathema said he was a good guy and Aziraphale could always trust her opinions on people.

There was a knock at the door. Aziraphale set down the books he was sorting and walked over to the door. He opened it up with a smile, laying his eyes upon what might just be the most attractive man he’d ever seen.

He was lean, tall, and dressed in a way that Aziraphale would call fashionable but still professional. His bright red hair was cropped short

“That you so much for this dude. I really owe you one,” said Crowley, shooing Warlock toward Aziraphale. “Why don’t you say hi Warlock?”

Warlock shuffled a little but didn’t say anything. “Sorry. He’s a bit shy.”

“I was shy when I was his age. It’s totally alright,” responded Aziraphale, crouching down to Warlock’s level. “I’m Aziraphale Eden,” he said, introducing himself.

“I know who you are,” said Warlock. “You looked after my friend Adam when his mum and dad were busy.”

Aziraphale’s smile brightened. “Adam is a lovely young man.”

“I like him. He let me borrow his colouring pencils in class.”

“Yeah? Do you have your pencils with you today?” he asked. Warlock gave a little nod. “That’s good. I have some colouring sheets that you can do. How about you go set yourself up on that table over there while I talk to your Pa?”

Warlock smiled a little and wandered off, backpack in tow, leaving Crowley and Aziraphale alone together. “I should probably give you this,” said Crowley, passing over a plastic bag. “Warlock’s allergic to peanuts. He’s usually fairly good at knowing what he isn’t allowed to have but I’ve put his EpiPen in there just in case. It’s in the box. His lunch is in the bag too. Do you…”

“Yes, I know how to use an EpiPen,” reassured Aziraphale.

“Oh good. Guess I don’t have to explain that then. And I know this probably goes without saying but Warlock has a lot of trauma. And I know we’ve taken all the same classes but just… be careful. He’s my kid, you know? Don’t hurt him.”

“I would never.”

Crowley waved goodbye to his son and set off for work and Aziraphale went to find those colouring sheets he had offered to Warlock.


	22. Sick Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale has the flu and Crowley is a bad cook.

Crowley was a bad cook. A terrible atrocious cook. He could burn basically anything on the face of the earth, including but not limited to pasta, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, water (don’t ask), toast and every kind of vegetable imaginable.

It wasn’t that much of an inconvenience because Crowley didn’t eat anyway. As a demon, his body didn’t require food and he found eating to be more of an inconvenience than anything.

Aziraphale was quite the opposite. He adored food of all kinds and saw it as a way to be close to the humanity he adored so much.

Crowley was a little worried when Aziraphale asked for some soup. He couldn’t quite bring himself to say no to the man - Aziraphale was sick after all - but he had precisely no idea how to make the damn stuff.

It took a long time and a lot of attempts but finally, Crowley set a bowl of something vaguely resembling soup in front of Aziraphale. “I did my best,” he mumbled.

“I know dear. I sure it’ll be delicious,” said Aziraphale, picking up the spoon. “It’s actually pretty good.”

“Thank Satan. I was sure it would be terrible. Can I get you anything else?”

“Just some hot chocolate please.”

Crowley went back to the kitchen and rattled around a few cupboards. “Where do you keep the stuff?”

“It’s in the cupboard above the stove,” called Aziraphale, before breaking into a coughing fit, reminding himself of how sick he was.

“I’m not sure I like the sound of that cough Angel,” yelled Crowley. “You should go to the doctor.”

“I’m not sure that’s a brilliant idea. I’m an angel – our physiology is probably different from humans.”

“Probably.” Crowley passed Aziraphale his hot chocolate, which was even in his favourite mug. “It is weird that you’re sick though. I didn’t think angels could get sick.”

“It turns out that we can if we’ve been on earth for too long. I asked upstairs about it yesterday.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Can I get anything else for you?”

“No, I’m good. Just sit with me for a bit...”

And just like before, Crowley finds that he just can’t say no to Aziraphale.


	23. Gardening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley was never kind to his plants and Aziraphale never really understood why. One day, it all clicked.

Aziraphale was enjoying a quiet evening with a good book, when he heard yelling coming from their garden. He was not surprised in the least – Aziraphale knew Crowley bullied his plants - but he assumed it harmless chastisement at most.

This was not that.

It was loud and aggressive. There was plenty of curse words and Crowley just didn’t seem like himself. Aziraphale could hear the crack in Crowley’s voice, as he teetered on the edge of tears. Enough was enough decided Aziraphale. He set his book on the table and went outside to find Crowley crouched over a flower bed.

“What are you doing dear?” he asked.

“Telling this pathetic piece of garbage that it needs to start growing properly or else,” snarled Crowley.

Then everything started making sense. Crowley was mimicking the way he was treated in heaven before the fall. People up there spent so long pressuring him to be perfect and the second he showed the slightest flaw they threw him away. That kind of treatment would influence anyone.

Just as Crowley went to rip the offending plant out the ground, Aziraphale grabbed him by the wrist. “Don’t do this,” he said. “Don’t hurt yourself like this. You’re perfect just the way you are my dear.”

Crowley snapped back at him. “I don’t know what you’re—”

“It’s okay. I understand why you’re doing this and I’m so, so sorry for the way that you were treated in heaven.”

Crowley stared at him with teary eyes before pulling Aziraphale close. He isn’t even sure why he’s crying. But he just needed to let all this pent-up sorrow out. Six thousand years of distress came flooding out.

Time passed – it might have been minutes, or it might have been hours, time didn’t really make sense at that moment – and Aziraphale spoke again. “I love you dear, but you need some serious therapy,” he said gently.

Crowley chucked a little to himself. “You think?”


	24. Stuck Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the Bentley has a mind of it's own and likes trapping people. One day, it does exactly that, forcing Crowley and Aziraphale to confront their feelings about each other.

Aziraphale handed over the holy water. Crowley took it from him, his hands more gentle than necessary in Aziraphale’s opinion. “I’ll give you a ride angel. Anywhere you want to go.”

“You go to fast for me Crowley…”

There was a moment of silence. “I should go.” Aziraphale made a move to open the door but it didn’t budge. “Really Crowley? Why did you lock the door?”

“I didn’t? Sometimes the Bentley has a mind of her own and acts up.”

Aziraphale shook the door again and it stayed stubbornly closed. “I guess we’re stuck in here together then…”

“Am I going too fast angel?” he asked suddenly. “Because it’s been nearly six thousand years and I thought that by now…” He trailed off.

Aziraphale frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“I mean we’ve been friends for so long and after what happened when we met during the war, I had assumed. Oh Satan. I assumed that we were… This is so embarrassing.” Crowley buried his face in his hands.

“That we were dating?” said Aziraphale quietly.

“Kinda yeah. I feel stupid now.”

Aziraphale paused for a second. “We could. Date I mean? I’ll admit that I have had a thing for you for a while.”

That’s how the two of them got together after six thousand years, all with the help of Crowley’s Bentley.


	25. Terms of Endearment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale and Crowley brainstorm some ideas for pet names.

Crowley had always called Aziraphale angel. It had started as a term of disdain – he had hardly covered the venom in his voice when Aziraphale showed up on the wall. An angel. Why here of all places? He had thought all angels were the same - all pompous pricks with superiority complexes. Including his boss Gabriel.

Especially his boss Gabriel.

But Aziraphale was different. He was kind to Crowley in a way no angel had been, not even when he was an angel himself. And he was good for the sake of being good. Other angels weren’t like that. Sure, they did good things but that was for other reasons. They had to or risk being cast out of heaven. Some just did it for the bragging rights though. Like Gabriel.

Fuck Gabriel.

Over time, the disdain in the nickname shifted a little to something Crowley couldn’t quite name. Soon he realised something. He cared for Aziraphale. He was in love.

Soon after the apocalypse that wasn’t, his angel became _his_ angel.

That begged the question of pet names. Aziraphale had often called Crowley dear, but he called everyone that, so it hardly counted as a pet name.

Aziraphale had offered a couple of helpful suggestions. Kitten was the first to come up and it was shot down immediately. “I’m not a bloody animal Aziraphale!”

“Except when you are,” added Aziraphale. Crowley glowered at him.

“No animals,” corrected Aziraphale. “Got it. What about buttercup?”

“I’m hardly a flower, am I?”

“Guess not. How about Sweetheart? I’ve always liked that one.”

Crowley was quiet for just a moment then he spoke again, barely above a whisper. “Yeah. That one’s good,” he said, his face flushing red.

Sweetheart it is thought Aziraphale.


	26. Compromise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes compromises are necessary. Especially when your husband disrespects your books.

Aziraphale wouldn’t say his books were his children but he was wrong. They absolutely were his children and because of this, they were massively precious to him. Many of his books were collector’s items – some were hundreds of years old for heaven’s sake!

Therefore, he was careful with them. Followed all the correct protocol, wore the cotton gloves recommended, miracled his hot chocolate so there was no risk of it tipping over and staining the pages.

Crowley on the other hand, had no such sensibility. He didn’t even wash his hands before picking them up. Aziraphale shuddered at the mere memory. And he left them open, which damaged the spines.

Crowley didn’t understand at first. He thought they were just books. Aziraphale was gentle with him. “It’s like your plants,” he said. “You wouldn’t be pleased if someone went around pulling off their flowers.”

“I would be furious. I would track them down and rip of their hea –”

“You see? It’s the same thing.”

There was a pause. “What do I need to do? I don’t want to wear the gloves. They make my scales itch.”

“You don’t have scales my dear.”

“Well no. Not in my human form, but I can still feel it under my skin. They make gloves uncomfortable to wear.”

“Could you wash your hands before touching my books? It’s just that they’re special to me.”

“I understand angel,” said Crowley, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “By the way, did you get that new first edition of Dante’s Inferno you were talking about?”

“The dealer delivered it earlier this morning. Would you like to flick through it with me?”

“Hell yeah. Humans are so creative when they write about hell. I wish it were nearly as cool as they think it is,” laughed Crowley. “Just cubicles as far as the eye can see. But I’ll go wash my hands first.”


	27. Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a spur of a moment thing really. But Crowley couldn’t stop himself from taking a shot.

Crowley and Aziraphale were on their way home from a dinner that was, unequivocally not a date, when suddenly, Crowley grabbed a hold of Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Just tell me when to stop,” he murmured going for the kiss. Aziraphale made no move to stop him, even leaning into it.

As soon as Crowley’s lips met Aziraphale’s, he felt a rush run through his veins. First euphoria and then unimaginable terror. What was he thinking? This was a terrible idea! He was going to lose his best friend all for a ridiculous, schoolboy crush.

He pulled away. “I’m so sorry,” he stammered. “I can’t believe I did that. That was a terrible idea and you probably hate me now and I should just leave and –”

Oh Satan, he was spiralling now. He felt as though he could evaporate and float away at any moment. Aziraphale’s hand on his shoulder was the only thing that brought him back down to earth. He was startled when Aziraphale grabbed a hold of the collar of his shirt and pulled Crowley down to his level.

“Never apologise,” breathed Aziraphale, as he kissed Crowley again and placed a hand on the back of Crowley’s neck. Crowley practically melted at the angels’ touch. Aziraphale pulled back after what felt like an eternity but was probably only a few minutes.

“How long have you liked me?” he asked suddenly.

Crowley thought for a moment. “I was interested in you since the beginning, at Eden, but I really fell for you in Ancient Rome. So about two thousand years ago now.”

“Well, we have a lot of time to make up for, don’t we?” smirked Aziraphale. Crowley had never seen Aziraphale so confident and quite frankly it was making Crowley a little hot and bothered.

“I think we do…”


	28. Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale promise to stay with each other forever.

Crowley and Aziraphale were on a picnic, at Aziraphale’s suggestion. A date. The first of many, many more. It was late evening – the first stars were appearing in the sky. Crowley laid back on the picnic blanket, looking up at the stars.

“Crowley… can you promise me something?” asked Aziraphale suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“Promise you’ll stay with me as long as possible,” said Aziraphale.

Crowley smiled. “I swear on my life.”

Crowley reached for Aziraphale’s hand. “Do you promise to stay too?”

“I promise. Forever, or as close to that as we both will live.” A comfortable silence befell them. Crowley swore for just a second that he could the breeze rolling though the fields and every minute rustling of small creatures in the trees.

The moon had risen quite some time ago. The pair looked up at the sky together, the shallow light shining down on their faces. In his mind, Aziraphale said a silent prayer on the stars.

A prayer said on Alpha Centauri – the place they had made together.

Aziraphale wasn’t sure who he was praying to. Not God. Not anymore. But he prayed all the same.

He never wanted to lose this man, be he a sinner or saint or something in between. Before meeting Crowley, he had seen all angels are pure and good and all demons as evil and bad. Then Crowley came into his life and turned everything upside down.

Crowley was a variable, a wild card, a grey area.

And Aziraphale loved him for it.

He said his silent prayer with a smile, hoping for as much time as possible with the man he loved. Unbeknownst to him Crowley was doing the exact same.


	29. Angst (The Forbidden Fluff)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale didn’t know how he handed over the holy water so easily...

Aziraphale knew that Holy Water was dangerous for demons. He wasn’t stupid.

So, when Crowley had asked him for holy water, he was scared. Scared that he would do something stupid. Or hurt himself. Or someone else. And there would be unimaginable consequences.

Most of all, he didn’t want to lose Crowley.

“I’m not giving you a suicide pill Crowley,” he had growled, tossing the slip of paper into the river, and storming away. And that was that.

Or so he thought…

A century passed. It was a long time for humanity. Wars were begun and ended. He watched London grow and change with every passing year and wondered if Crowley was noticing the same things that he was.

Cars replaced horse and carts. He saw many new inventions arise in fact, which was both interesting and highly confusing.

Still, it was a slow time for Aziraphale. Slow and boring. He hadn’t spoken to Crowley since their disagreement and found that he missed the demon, more than he thought he would.

Then there was the Blitz. When the penny dropped, and he realised that he may have developed feelings for Crowley. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say something. Decades later, he heard of a plot to rob a church of holy water that was reportedly orchestrated by an attractive redheaded man.

It was obvious that it was Crowley, laughably so. Almost like he wanted to be found.

And Aziraphale knew exactly what he wanted. The question was, would he be willing to just hand it over, knowing the risks?

It turns out he was.

He was trembling, his knuckles white as he gripped a hold of his flask. Was he really doing this? Letting his friend endanger himself just in case he needed to kill himself before hell got around to it. This was ridiculous!

And it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been hanging around Crowley so much, then he wouldn’t have been in so much danger.

Maybe that guilt was what prompted him to hand it over. A repayment of sorts. He hated everything about this, but he had no choice. It wasn’t like he wanted Crowley to need it, or even want it. _But he had to do this_ he thought, handing Crowley the Holy Water.

It was what was right.

Or was it?

He couldn’t even tell anymore.


	30. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Aziraphale learn that family is the people you choose.

Crowley and Aziraphale were not raised with traditional family dynamics. This was partially because they grew up surrounded by angels and demons, as well as god herself, and partially because the people they were raised by were insufferable.

Living in hell was not fun for Crowley. He had this constant desire for validation – for someone to tell him that he was doing good at being bad – which wasn’t something he got from the other demons. Apathy was often the best reaction he got from the other demons.

He had a feeling that the fall had something to do with it. Perhaps God kicking him out of hell had impacted his psyche.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, got too much attention from his peers. It was just all the wrong kinds.

The worst offender was Gabriel. He was always making snide comments about Aziraphale’s corporal form or calling his ideas stupid. He would always drag Aziraphale right to the edge of snapping – right up until the moment that Aziraphale would consider doing something crazy like hurting Gabriel or worse – then he would pull back a little.

He would be just kind enough, for just long enough, that Aziraphale would think the bullying would stop. Then it would start again.

One memorable day, in the late eighties, Aziraphale had happened across a book about abusive relationships. He was startled by how much his relationship with Gabriel had in common with them.

Still, family is more than the people you are raised with.

To Crowley and Aziraphale, their families were the people they chose. Anathema, Newt, Adam and the Them, Warlock and even Mr Shadwell and Madame Tracy. They were their family.

A perfectly imperfect chosen family.


	31. Dating Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel drags Aziraphale to a speed dating event. Aziraphale didn’t expect to have much fun, but then he meets an enigmatic red-head and his day gets substantially better.

Speed dating was not Aziraphale’s thing. For one, they were mainly geared toward straight people and he was gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide. Still, his brother had dragged him to one in hopes of Aziraphale finding a woman. He should have expected Gabriel would stick his nose into Aziraphale’s relationship troubles, like he stuck his nose in everything else in Aziraphale’s life. He couldn’t decline because he wasn’t out to him family yet and declining would only arouse suspicion.

So, he let himself be dragged to the bar and grumpily listened to Gabriel’s pep talk. Once Gabe wandered off, probably thinking that he did something immensely helpful, Aziraphale opened the door and took in the familiar smell of alcohol that always lingered in all bars.

He went up to the event host to collect his notepaper and pencil. Then he ordered a drink and sat at his table, waiting for the event to begin.

A few minutes later, a red-haired man sat down at the table next to Aziraphale. He ran his hand through his hair and chewed on the end of his pencil. Noticing Aziraphale sitting next to him, he gave a wide smile.

“I’m Crowley,” he said.

Aziraphale was caught a little off guard. “Aziraphale… Have you been to one of these things before? I’m new to this.”

“Me too. My friend Hastur dragged me here. I’m not usually one for these things.”

“Me neither. My brother forced me to come. I love him but he can be meddlesome at times. Older brothers can be like that you know? You got any siblings?”

“Nah. Blessed only child.”

Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from laughing. “I mean, that’s one way to put it. Don’t get me wrong, I love my brother, but he can be really irritating.”

He took one last glance at Crowley before the event began. A part of him wondered why such an attractive man would ever agree to this sort of event. Shouldn’t he have a girlfriend or something?

\- - - - -

“What do you do?” asked the woman sat across him. Her name was Joan or Jane or something like that. Aziraphale struggled to remember. He was too distracted by Crowley’s voice beside him, talking about his plants with such passion that it was distracted. Was he a botanist? It was a sweet image.

“Aziraphale, are you listening to me?” She sounded annoyed. Shoot.

“Sorry, sorry. I zoned out for a second. I own a bookshop in Soho. It used to be my grandfather’s, but I took it over when he died earlier this year.”

He noticed out the corner of his eye that Anthony was raising an eyebrow and he suddenly felt a little self-conscious. Had he overshared? There was an awkward atmosphere handing in the air.

The timer dinged and he watched as Joan or Jane or whatever her name was moved on. As soon as she was out of earshot Aziraphale groaned and threw his face in his hands. “Not having a good time huh?” smirked Crowley.

“I swear I’m just boring them all. I have no idea why I even agreed to come here. It’s not like I even want to date women cuz I’m gay,” he admitted without even thinking. Crowley smirked.

“You’re gay? Then why are you here?”

“My brother forced me to come. He doesn’t know. I keep thinking I should come out but I’m too scared.”

“I get that. I was terrified to come out to my parents as bi. My parents try but they just don’t get it. Besides, I don’t think you’re boring.”

“Really?”

“Not at all. Hearing you talk about your bookshop so passionately was really intriguing. And you seem kind. You care about your family, even if they drive you mad. I know that your favourite Shakespeare play is Hamlet. I know you love sushi and old books and tartan. And I know that I want to give you my number,” mumbled Crowley.

Aziraphale’s brain short circuited. “Pardon?”

“Can I give you my number?” repeated Crowley.

Aziraphale flushed pink. “I’d like that…”

So, even if Aziraphale didn’t get a woman’s number, he did get a man’s. And that was better in his opinion.


	32. Band AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley is the drummer of a punk band and invites Aziraphale to one of his band’s showings as a first date

Aziraphale had been in bars before; plenty of times. He was twenty and had been legally allowed to drink for a while now. Bars weren’t his favourite places, but he was familiar with them.

He had never been in a gay bar though, so this was a first. He had no idea there were so many queer people in the city, let alone this neighbourhood.

Aziraphale walked up to the bar and hastily ordered a pint for himself and – in a moment of inspiration – a bottle of water for Crowley. He made his way closer to the stage where Crowley and his band were setting up. A large rainbow flag was hung behind it. Strangely enough, it made him feel massively safe.

He got Crowley’s attention and tossed him the bottle. Crowley deftly caught it and twisted off the cap, taking a deep swig of water. While Aziraphale didn’t want to admit it, Crowley was looking incredibly attractive that night. His long red hair was pulled into a loose bun on his head and he was dressed simply and stylishly – in a black button up shirt and dark wash jeans.

Crowley finished the drink with a deep sigh. “Thanks. It’s hot as hell up here cuz of the stage lights.”

“I guessed as much. Do you need any help setting up?” offered Aziraphale.

“Nah, Bea and everyone else are a bit late because of traffic but they don’t have much to set up; just some amps and stuff. I came early so I’m pretty much done already.”

True to Crowley’s word, the rest of the band arrived not so long after. He watched them set up from his table a few feet away. Crowley and his band seemed to work well together.

Speaking of, Aziraphale had found himself becoming familiar with the rest of Crowley’s band, even if he had never been directly introduced. Bea was the band’s vocalist, which Aziraphale knew from overhearing them doing their vocal warmups. Lee and Haz both played the guitar and seemed very competitive, constantly bickering about who got to have solos in which songs.

Crowley was the drummer of course, and Damon was the bassist. Those two seemed to be the calmest of the group, staying out of the rest of the group’s bickering.

Once everything was set up, Crowley gave the nod to the bar owner and spoke up. “Hey everyone! Fallen Angels here, you know us, you love us and we’re going to sing some songs,” he announced.

“Final thing before we start, I’ve invited a date to this showing. He’s sort of new to the punk scene, Christian parents you know.” Most of the crowd murmured in agreement. “Everyone give a warm welcome to Aziraphale Eden!”

He looked Aziraphale dead in the eyes and shot him a confident wink, as the crowd cheered. Aziraphale couldn’t stop himself from blushing as he turned his face away. Crowley smirked and sat down at his drum set.

“Anyway, here’s our first song; Fuck the Church.” He smacked his drumsticks together, counting out the rhythm and the band started playing.

Aziraphale quickly found himself wrapped up in their music. Not such a bad first date, he thought.


End file.
